


Filiality Is For the Damned

by igpay_atinlay



Series: Little Wonders [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, cleanarrow, cleanpotato, hop on kit kats, levisha, smallpotato, we're taking the feels canoe for a spin, yes we have ship names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 10:44:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6654862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igpay_atinlay/pseuds/igpay_atinlay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi's....thing with Blouse has garnered Erwin’s attention and then all hell breaks loose. Or, we all rebel against our fathers at some point in our lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filiality Is For the Damned

**Author's Note:**

> I've recycled some lines from my 3rd Wallbreakers drabble which I've since scrapped. The rest of it is new material. Rejoice with me my Levisha brethren! I haven't given up on my writing just yet. Enjoy and review!

Erwin Smith is acknowledged as having the finest brain to ever pass through the Survey Corps. It is sharp, analytical-  _mechanical, some generals whisper, watching the young Commander stride by them like a blond Adonis sculpted out of chrome bleached bone white_ \- every plan he comes up with almost always ends up successful, and in these times, almost goes a long, long way.

When you’ve seen hell and survived it, you come to realise that the commander’s word is gospel. What he says in that baritone of his is far more substantial than any dime a dozen priest with his theories about salvation and repentance. You join the ranks of those who have fought demons and believe that God is a stoic man whose eyes see neither here nor there but everywhere-in men’s hearts, in men’s dreams, in destruction and small triumphs that start a slow trickle of hope amongst the Outer Walls.

Levi is one of the masses. It started the day a young man hefted himself over three successive roofs with the vilest piece of 3DMG gear Erwin had ever seen, narrowly escaping a skewering by the Military Police.

He’s been a believer since the day Erwin picked up a half starved young man off the ground next to his dead comrades, black eyed and bruised, ribs showing up against the red smear on his chest where blood pooled and congealed like the weight of his sins in this world.

He’s been a believer since Erwin caught that young man by the elbow and said, “I need you.”

He’s been a believer since Erwin sent that young man into a military camp-

-and Lance Corporal Levi came out of it.

So this is why Levi agrees to be a poster boy for the corps; creates caveats fit for the high arts and bows low to the King, enough to see the shine of the old man’s boots and his ceremonial scabbard; exchanges the weight of  dead peoples’ dreams and battered gear for a uniform decked with accolades and brass buttons that could feed a boatload of war-orphans. He scrapes and measures out his good humour and attention as if they are things of trade, stiffed backed and always-always he calculates for the glint of interest in a courtier’s eyes-always he plans new ways to garner adulation, hack out devotion from these crowing bourgeoisie who lie pigeon-holed in their houses, protected by an endless wave of blood.

Levi helps Erwin. This is fact.

Because Erwin saves people. This is fact.

When his men die for him, they die with the knowledge that Erwin saves people. Erwin saves his countrymen, their dreams and if ever there was a damned sweet wrapper that needed saving, he will have done that too. Erwin will save them all, if he is given enough backs to step on, to forge a new future for them. If he has power by his side and the hound of Hell keeping his enemies at bay.

Because Levi has a debt to pay, and Levi fucking _hates_  debts.

Levi is one of the masses- but this time, when he allows himself respite and lays a hand on Blouse’s shoulder after a particularly hard training session, a second too long, a shade too gentle- Erwin stands there, judging him, peering at him with an inscrutable expression shadowed in the gaze of his blue eyes, as blue as the sky, and Levi will tell himself that he does not know what that look means.

But Blouse is too young and too strait-laced to lie- one day she comes to him with a question trembling on her lips, asking him about lovers he pretends not to have, her hurt eyes reflecting, magnifying even, the same disbelief that Erwin’s gaze conveys-and he knows then, that Erwin’s got to her, fed her stories before she’s ready to hear them.

_Clients, he says, laying more than just a hand on her shoulder. He takes her, numbly, cradles her head in the crook of his neck and feels her warm breath gust over the shell of his ear, feels it, memorizes the thrill it sends down his back, how his hairs stand on end, the sizzle of want. The only want he’s ever felt in a long time._

  
_None of them matter, he promises, and she unbuckles his his belt with a fierce expression, fire and wrath promised in a kiss that makes him ache. Prove it, she whispers harshly in the solitary hush of his quarters. She rails at him, shaken that her first love cannot promise himself to her and her only, so he takes her hands and rakes her fingernails down his chest as she sobs with confusion, cursing this world and his own fate, lets her claim him in the most primal way he knows, in blood and sweat, and pleasure that has him gasping, his heart in his throat._

In this caged world of theirs the strong are coveted. The upper echelons grow fat and lazy, powerful only in their own swollen heads. They think that their money can buy that strength for their own, even if only for a night. But Levi knows better, as does Ackerman, who already garners flocks of admirers, those who hover like vultures although Yeager seethes beside her and wraps his blood red scarf more tightly around the girl, pushing her away and pulling her in at the same time.

Humanity’s strongest soldier cannot afford to bludgeon the already battered image of the Survey Corps by trysting with a new recruit, says Erwin in a clipped voice, dispassionate even. He sits across from Levi, a remote figure, disconnected from these chain of events that he could not have foreseen even with his all-knowing eyes. But Erwin is sometimes blind to things. Like the woman who chose Nile Dok but still thinks of Erwin even though she lies replete in her husband’s arms. Like Yeager, whose goal to exterminate Titans is slowly being clouded over by Ackerman’s expanse of skin and callused hands. Like Hange, who tells herself that the wonders of research and trailing in the shadow of Erwin’s too bright blaze is  enough to satisfy the longing for more than just a bleak, emotionless set of orders from him.

He feels resentment- anger he has felt on numerous occasions before- but this slow poison burning in his veins is new and powerful. He tells Erwin that his duty has always been clear, and he knows he is still needed, that regardless of how many people he’s serviced, he knows his ledger can only be wiped when their world no longer has a need for walls. Then he tells Erwin that he is a damned _coward_ for never giving himself a chance, that the sex he sells is paid in money pouring into the Survey Corps’ coffers, that to use his own sacrifice against him is _cheap_ and to _bludgeon_ the happiness of a girl with so _underhanded_ a tactic puts him on the same level as _scum_ -

He leaves.

Later, Blouse will find him in his office. She slides home the bolt on the and rids herself of her clothes, mutiny written in her furrowed brows as though daring him to object. He sits still behind his desk, wanting her so much that he is weary with the weight of it. What he leaves unsaid must show in his face, for she comes to him in quick, purposeful steps. She tugs at his belt, shoves his trousers down in jerky movements and then curls her fingers around his already hard cock. He reacts in instinctive motion, lifts his hands to grasp at her hips but she releases him, slams his hands back on the arms of his chair, snarling out just one word; “ _Don’t_ ”. She spits in the palm of her hand and goes back to  slicking up his cock, edging the tips of her nails around the head and then down the shaft, she twists and curls on the way up and Levi bucks, gods she is _merciless_ , but she doesn’t let him come, not even when he lets out the first desperate grunt, a wordless plea for her to just give him this- this absolution.

She circles around the base of his cock, tightening her grip enough enough that Levi sucks in his lower lip and bites. Her other hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and Levi exhales in one drawn out, shaky breath as Blouse settles her thighs on either side of his and sinks down, wet-so wet he can feel his erection slide against her slick, and her walls, are hot and possessive and fucking  _glorious_ . Her hands settle on his chest, his shoulders, digging hard into the meat of his thigh as she rocks her hips in a vicious downward twist, still angry enough convey all her frustration with the force of her own bones.

He thrusts upwards and into her, keyed up and too far gone on the pleasure from being inside of her, his hips stutter as she takes him inside her again. He grits his teeth, works for the angle that he knows will make her scream-he curls forward, dislodging her as he shifts and leans on his side. This time as they both move forward in a rush of bodies, he slams in deeper and harder and her lips part in a soundless gasp and Levi is feral in his triumph as Blouse curses and retaliates with deliberate undulations, clenching and releasing her muscles like the pulling of the moon on the tide. This time when Levi’s hands fly up to clench and rake at her hips she does nothing to stop him, leaning into him until they are chest to chest, so close he feel her heart pounding against his skin, matching his own beat for beat.

She bends her head and parts her mouth around the ridge of his collarbone. She sucks, once, twice, and Levi lets slip a groan, a litany of profanity escaping him, fuck, oh _fuck_ , he jerks and curses and comes in a heady rush, his body locked in a spasm white-hot pleasure. Blouse hisses, impatient for her own pleasure, impatient to join him in aftermath. He slides a heavy palm from hip to clit,circling her stiff nub with his thumb. A feeling of euphoria fills him up as he urges him to go faster, his blood sings with it. It is pitiful, minuscule even, this petty thrill- but when he picks up pace, slides two of his other fingers into her despite his cock still being in his channel, unfinished and filthy, curls them- he desires her, desires all of her screams and her laughter and the very breath she takes into her body, she’s promised herself to him and she is his to love of his own free will and no one is taking her away from him, not this miasma of woman, so delicately human as she comes apart with a sobbing hitch in her breath.

“ _Mein kleiner_ ,” he croons into her hair, pressing his lips to her sweaty brow, cradling her though she is the taller of them.  Blouse whimpers, little frissions of leftover pleasure make her squirm in his lap. Levi feels that pleasure for his own. He runs his hands up and down her freckled back, looses her hair from its ponytail and settles more comfortably in the chair, uncaring that his cock has gone soft inside of her, that they’re a mess of sweat, stink and come, for once he’s content to leave things as they are.

Blouse shifts her weight a little, and sighs, looping her arms around his shoulders. It gives him relief that she slumps so bonelessly against him, makes him think that she’s not so pissed at him anymore.

“I’m still pissed at you,” Blouse says wryly into his ear.

Levi burrows his nose into her shoulder and exhales. Its the first long sentence he’s heard from her in over a week. Figures. The one person he’s actually fucked with feeling and she remains unmoved, as opposed to the countless others who would have moved heaven and earth for him by this point.

“But I figured,"she continues, "I figured, I might die any day- and so could you, you know? But I have a higher possibility of it and I just-”

\- she breaks off, as Levi kisses her in a rough mashing of lips, her incisor tooth, the upper one that sticks out a little and makes it impossible for her mouth to stay truly closed, catches on his lower lips and it stings, the tiny tear it creates, but it doesn’t sting as much, doesn’t deal him the same blow as her words do, how mortal she is and  _why van't he have her_ -

“-I don’t really know why I’m staying mad at you anymore," Sasha says thickly. Levi shushes her in a gesture he’s not used to making, cupping her cheeks as she stares at him in a sort of desperation. “You haven’t spoken to me all _week_ \- I thought-”

"I lied to you,” he says quietly. He guides her head downwards until their foreheads touch, tender and gentle now that they’re spent .She rests her fingers in his hair. “You didn’t exactly lie,” she points out, “you just omitted a very big part of the truth.” A huff of laughter escapes him, more in surprise than actual humour. “You’re defending me now? I thought you were still pissed at me.”  

“Don’t push it, _sir_ ,” she says, lips curling in a smirk and damn if he isn’t half hard from just that little inflection. He grimaces. His quads are starting to cramp. “I’m not pushing anything, but if you’re forgiving me for omitting the truth then I have nothing else to say. And I thought _you_ were avoiding _me_.”

“Wow. They weren’t lying when they said you have a shitty bedside attitude.”

“Sorry, but my legs are cramping.”

She slaps his shoulder, a blow he doesn’t bother to dodge, then her hands trail lower and lower- he hasn’t pulled out of her and yes he’s hard, harder now that her doe brown eyes are blown wide open and he’s claimed a front row seat to that slow flame building in her irises.

“I heard that warming the blood helps with cramp,” Blouse offers innocently, except her cunt is in the midst of working his cock in a rhythm that’s decidedly nowhere near sweet and virginal. “And besides,” she says, slurred and husky, a timbre like the burn of spiced wine, “if my _commanding_ _officer_ had just said the word, I’d be in here much sooner than this.”

“Insatiable,” he murmurs, forgetting about the cramp, about the rest of this much needed conversation they’re supposed to be having, awake to only the slow pull of arousal snaking up his gut.

“Who, me?” Blouse leans back, pushing her breasts into his face. Levi hates to disappoint. He takes a nipple in his mouth, aping the rhythm of her hips, slow and steady, turning to suckle at the other one when she tugs at his hair. They don’t need much to bring them over the edge. This time the release catches them at the same time, like the crest on a wave- Blouse shudders, her orgasm triggering his own. Levi looks at her breasts, at his saliva drying on the nut brown of her areolas, and wonders what she would say if he told her he was thinking of actually using his heap of unused pay to build her a house, build them a house. Buy some land next to a forest full of game. A bed. And clean sheets.

Blouse picks herself off of him, stumbling a little. She perches on the edge of his desk and props her feet on his seat arms. Levi pulls his trousers up, fastens them. He hoists both feet onto his lap,  putting pressure the thin skin between her toes, his mind still on the house and a girl half his age spilling cake crumbs all over the sheets while he scrubs the floors.  

The toes in his hands curl and dig into his palms. He looks up. Blouse watches him, a fond half smile on her face, soft. He likes it, thinks its tender and suits her. She’s just- so warm. Even her anger, that which he’s been exposed to is hot and explosive, legions away from the ice that settles in his mind when he loses his temper.

“What?” he says, just to break this silence. It cuts a shade too raw, how domestic this almost feels- these quiet moments are precious but they also reinforce the fact that his time doesn’t belong to him.

Might never will.

“Sometimes, I can’t get it around my head that this happened- us,” she motions two fingers in the space between them, in response to the eyebrow he lifts, “I never pegged you for the type.”

“And what type would that be?” Levi asks, sure she’s going to quip something smartassed about forbidden love, but all she does is look-straight on like she knows him inside out. “I dunno, but my da-I never told you about my da, but he would sit at the table sometimes, after ma passed and the hunting ran out, and he never cried but sometimes he just sat there and looked, empty.”

"I-when you watch us, the younger ones, you get that same look, and I’ve always thought that it meant sadness, but it’s more than that isn’t it?“

Longing. He knows it better than he knows how to kill Titans. Even when he traded in his knives for swords and a uniform, the feeling hasn’t gone away. Maybe he just traded in a set of chains for a bigger one.

"I wanted to make you smile, or at least distract you.” Blouse shrugs. “Even before we started-before. Presumptuous of me, I know.” Levi drops his gaze to her feet and swallows. Its a nice weight on him. She has pretty ankles, slender. He even likes how her calluses add texture to her skin.

“At least, when Commander Erwin asked to see me, I could truthfully say that I fell for you first.”

The thought of Erwin needling into Blouse is abhorrent, but that is precisely what happened, how she found out about him using his body to gain traction for the Corps in the first place. Those first few moments, how wretched must she have felt? A part of him still feels vaguely sick that she’s fully aware of what he does every time he ventures into the inner walls. But if he’s going to be honest- the seediness, the knowing glances noblemen send his way, that’s his teind to pay- but to bring her into it and make her subject to the same knowing, the leering-

“I thought I was going to lose you if you ever found out,” he confesses.

“Captain,” Blouse says, and Levi turns to her, realizing that she’s put on her best ‘cadet’ voice, “I volunteered for the Survey Corps. Volunteered. For the best chance at dying in the most _horrible_ manner possible.” She scoffs, tosses her hair, cutting an imperious figure despite being buck naked as a newborn. “Credit me with a little more backbone than that.”

“High-end prostitution doesn’t make for a stellar catch.” What he can’t fathom is how she manages to stay so cavalier about this, but if she’s going to bulldoze past his hang-ups for him then he’s damn well letting her, though for some reason he wants to push the issue- the question ‘what is she thinking’ lingers like an itch in his skin-he’s being a needy, but he wants to hear her answer clear. 

“Do I hate it? Absolutely. Do I want to stick an arrow straight into the ponces who’re making you do this? Damn straight I do.”

“But sir,” Blouse nudges him with a sweat-cooled toe, “if its alright by you then I can deal. I want to _stay_.”

“Is it alright by you?”

Levi thinks about debt, and death, and a ledger wiped clean. Burning down the old world. No walls. A house, a bed.

Cake crumbs.

“As long as it takes.”

But not a second more, he vows.

He makes to stand as Blouse hops of the desk, walking around it to pick up her clothes. Her skirt goes on, followed by a white blouse, then a vest, her lithe tanned frame swallowed by each expanse of material.

“No under-wrappings?” he queries. He’s seen ladies in far more revealing costumes, old-world lace and crepe-thin silk, but her worn, faded outfit is blessedly kind to her, clinging to her curves, skirt swinging at her shapely calves. It was never about the clothes.

Blouse sticks her tongue out. “I came here in a very specific frame of mind.”

“Brat.”

“Captain.”

Air rushes from his nose and his lips in a graceless display of rare mirth, so light is his chest. Its relief. She’s fine. They’re fine.

“Bathe. You stink.” He smiles in spite of himself.

“So do you.” She pulls at her blouse, sniffs and grimaces. “But I’m going to take that suggestion with good grace.” She unlocks the door.

“Sasha,” he calls out, but when she turns back to him with a questioning look, nothing comes to mind. _Thank you, I’m sorry, don’t wait for me, don’t keep waiting for me. Trust me._

Blouse smiles, impossibly bright. “You know, if we survive this, I like to think my da and you would get along just fine.” The smile turns impish. “-specially since'res nought too many years 'tween ya.”

“Brat”, he says again, softly.

She opens the door a crack and slips through the gap.

* * *

 

Night falls. Levi comes back to his office in a new change of clothes and some cleaning supplies. He scours the whole room with the light of three candles for company.

Tomorrow after he can find the words, Erwin and him are going to have a chat about boundaries and maybe he’ll end up cursing the him to hell and beyond-try and stick a few knives in his craw too, but he’ll pledge his loyalty all over again, to the man who’s turning a pipe-dream into something tangible.

As for those shit for brains so called 'nobles’, if they think they can build him up into a hollow god into which they pour their skewed ideals, they’re wrong- he is a man, flesh and blood like any other, perhaps more, even, for all he has ever known is flesh and blood.

And he wants-

-so he shall take.

“I know,” Levi says to Erwin,flat and uncompromising- _oh_ his eyes

are _hungry_.

but I don’t-

care.


End file.
